


Contracts

by Aki_Aiko



Series: Domestic [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: Domestic verse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:38:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aki_Aiko/pseuds/Aki_Aiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having been dragged along a bumpy road, Kurt's life finally starts to fall into place-if only he'd let it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contracts

**Author's Note:**

> I know, we all want to see Kurt be happy and healthy and mentally sound. He's definitely better than what he was, but what happened will always stay with and affect him. I don't think this universe will ever be totally angst-free. On a side note: I have no idea if this is actually how this sort of contract would happen, so please forgive the errors.
> 
> Takes place after Back to New York

Blaine woke up to the sound of Kurt moving around the kitchen. The smell of bacon wafted through their little house like a siren call he just had to answer, so he stumbles out of bed and to where he found Kurt setting the table for breakfast. Kurt was already dressed for the day in tight jeans and a form-fitting, long-sleeved shirt, his hair swept back from his forehead.

"Hey." Blaine dropped into a chair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Kurt spared him a brief smile. "Hey. Breakfast will be ready in a minute, why don't you go get ready? You have to be at rehearsal in an hour, you know."

Blaine groaned and pulled himself back up. He gave Kurt a kiss on the cheek before making his way back to the bedroom and its adjoining bathroom to shower. Kurt was studying his reflection in a compact mirror when Blaine wrapped his arms around him from behind and buried his face in his neck to inhale Kurt's unique scent.

"What are you doing?" Blaine murmured into his ear.

"Are you sure I look okay?" Kurt nibbled at his lip, turning his face a bit to get a different angle in the mirror, and ran a finger along the ridge of his newly straightened nose.

Blaine placed a kiss just below his ear. "You look fine. Great. Wonderful."

"But..."

He took Kurt's shoulders in his hands and turned him around so that they were facing each other and cupped his face in his hands. "It looks perfect. _You_ look perfect."

At Kurt's smile, Blaine leaned in to capture his lips in his own and they spent a moment trading slow, languid kisses until Kurt suddenly jerked away. "The food. It'll get cold."

Blaine would have been happy just standing there with Kurt in his arms until time to go but Kurt slipped out of his arms and started fussing over the plates, putting a much bigger portion on Blaine's than his own. It was progress from five years ago, Blaine thought. Five years ago, Kurt would've struggled to make himself eat. There'd been a few relapses over the years but he always got back on track, with the help of his family and therapists.

"What?" Kurt paused with a forkful of scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth.

Blaine shook his head, though he had a small smile on his face. "Nothing." It was nice, the life they'd built for themselves, even if there were some bumps along the way.

x

Sometimes Blaine would look around his little office and think to himself, _Accountant? Really?_ But, yeah, that was his life now. He didn't hate his job, but it was the weekends he loved the most. On Saturdays, he could spend the whole day with the guys and rehearse for the next show the little a cappella group would be performing next. Sometimes, Kurt would stay and watch. If it was a good day, he'd mingle among the group with a flirtatious smile and cling proudly to Blaine's arm. On bad days, he'd huddle in one of the chairs off-stage, a silent figure watching with wide, darting eyes. Today would be neither, as he had to go to his shop and finish a big project.

"I swear," Kurt fussed as he straightened Blaine's collar outside the local theater. "Mrs. Landry needs to realize her daughter will look ridiculous in a dress from the eighties. It's a monstrosity that is in desperate need of trimming. I'd say set fire to it, except that it's an 'heirloom. The poor groom will be smothered by a frilled hoopskirt before they can even get to the fun part of the honeymoon."

"I remember our honeymoon," Blaine murmured.

Kurt blushed but didn't move away when Blaine leaned in to kiss him.

"Hey," a loud voice shouted out. "I already went to the dentist once this week. I swear to God, if you guys give me any more cavities..."

Blaine and Kurt broke apart with embarrassed grins, Kurt leaning around Blaine's shorter body to finger wave at the big, burly, and _very straight_ ex-linebacker watchiing them from the door to the theater.

"Hey, Carl."

Carl raised a hand in return. "Hey, kid. Lookin' good."

Kurt's hand automatically went up to cover his face. Blaine gently pulled it back down.

"You look fine, Kurt." Now that the swelling and bruising had gone down.

"I have to go. The dress." Kurt planted one last, quick kiss to the side of Blaine's mouth then ran to the cab.

Blaine sighed happily and watched the car as it pulled away, until a meaty hand clamped onto the back of his neck and twirled him around.

"Let's go, Loverboy," Carl said.

They walked into the theater together. Inside, a few of the other members of their ragtag little group were gathered together at the snack table, talking and laughing.

"Um, what are we supposed to be doing today?" Blaine asked, his mind still on Kurt's soft lips pressed against his own. _Mmmm._

Beside him, Carl rolled his eyes. "Audition, then rehearsal."

"Right, right. So who's up?" Blaine settled into one of the small red chairs. He was prepared to just sit back and watch the hopefuls as they sang their audition pieces, but Carl had to go and call out a name that made Blaine feel like he'd been doused in ice water then tossed into a roaster.

He glared at the muscular guy striding onto the stage. "Hell, no."

Carl raised raised an eyebrow. "Problem?"

Blaine pointed at Tegan Smith, the one person he really, REALLY hoped to never see again. "We are _not_ letting him join."

"Anderson?" Tegan cupped a hand over his eyes and squinted at him. "Is that you?"

He jumped off the stage and headed over to where Blaine and Carl were standing. Blaine growled low in his throat as he approached.

"Go home, Tegan. You're wasting your time here."

Tegan crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Please. I'm sure you're not the only one who has a say in that."

Carl looked between them, confused. "So...what's going on?"

"He's just upset I screwed his boyfriend."

Blaine rushed forward, grabbed the bigger man by the collar of his shirt, and pushed a finger in his face. "You took advantage of someone who is mentally unstable."

Carl's back stiffened at Blaine's words. "He do something to Kurt?"

The guys at the snack table had stopped talking when the argument between Blaine and Tegan started but the moment Kurt's name was mentioned, the five of them dropped the food back to the table and began to weave their way through the seats towards them. They were all like big, overprotective brothers around Kurt, new Finns to add to the collection-or maybe it was like the mob. No one messes with family. They considered Kurt family, oddly enough more than they did Blaine. Blaine suspected some of them recognized Kurt's face, what with how they sometimes looked at him.

"I didn't do anything Kurt didn't want," Tegan said.

The words hurt more because they were true, and Blaine would have hit the man if Carl hadn't grabbed his arm.

"You should leave," Alan, on of the tenors, said.

Tegan turned on his heels with a scoff and edged his way around the group of angry singers towards the exit. Blaine collapsed back into his chair with a sigh, leaning forward to run his hands over his face.

"Okay," Carl said, sitting in the seat beside him. "What was that all about?"

Two years after Kurt came home from the hospital he and Blaine had left for New York. Blaine continued his accountant job he'd started back in Lima, adding new clients when they moved, and Kurt opened his own little specialized boutique, payed for partly with the money Karofsy's father had given him and partly with money donated by Blaine's trust fund. They'd been doing great, living on their own. It was almost like they were already married.

After doing a bit of searching, Blaine joined up with a large show choir that sang Top 40 songs. He didn't get many solos-a fact which both offended and amused Kurt-but it was fun to be back on the stage and singing again. He brought Kurt to most rehearsals, a habit they'd carried over to LA, and on the good days, like now, he was bright and flirty. Sometimes he'd go home with a headache or he just wasn't up to all the noise and bright lights. Mostly Blaine dropped him off home and returned to rehearsal. The one day he didn't was the day that nearly destroyed them.

After a whole year with the group, Blaine finally got a solo. Kurt made it most every rehearsal, preening like a proud peacock over Blaine's success, but on one day, he'd come in moody and restless. Blaine had caught one of the guys by the arm and asked if they could see Kurt home so that he could finish up his number. Blaine's request got shuffled around until Tegan Smith volunteered for the job. Blaine didn't like the guy. The two of them had never gotten along well. He watched the two of them walk out the front door and frowned at the arm he saw wrap itself around Kurt's waist before they disappeared into the bright sunlight.

Blaine came home an hour later to find them having sex on the living room floor. As he watched with horror, Kurt reached up to grip Tegan by the hair and pull him down for a searing kiss. Blaine had stumbled out and run away, ignoring Kurt's frantic calling of his name.

Somehow, Burt showed up at his hotel room a week later. Kurt had called Mercedes, hysterical, and Mercedes called Burt, and the two of them met up at Kurt's place to drag both of them to Kurt's psychiatrist's office. Blaine still had no idea how they found him.

One look at Kurt's tear-streaked face and Blaine had sighed, dropped into one of the chairs, and took his hand. Even then, he couldn't leave him, though Kurt flat-out admitted to being a willing participant to the whole affair. Oh, he'd protested at first, but the man's brusque nature had resembled Karofsky's enough to spark some kind of trigger and suddnely Kurt _needed_ the man in a way he hadn't even considered, not until he was shoved against the wall with a tongue being forced into his mouth. He didn't even realize how screwed up it was until he saw Blaine staring down at them in the act.

Blaine didn't know what was most screwed up about it, the fact that Kurt had done it at all or that he hadn't even realized what he was doing was screwed up in the first place. A month later, Blaine dragged Kurt off to the Justice of the Peace and they both signed their names to a marriage contract. Blaine was bound to Kurt now. No matter what happened catastrophe happened next, he couldn't just run away.

Blaine glanced over at Carl and shook his head. "Long story. REALLY long story. Let's just say, it happened before we moved out here, and let's never speak of it again."

Carl nodded. "Okay." He clapped his hands on his knees. "How about we-"

Blaine's phone went off in his pocket, Katy Perry's voice trilling across the room. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and brought the phone to his ear. "Kurt?"

"You better get over here and calm your boy down!"

Blaine jerked the phone away from his ear at the loud voice and stared at it. "Ronnie?"

Ronnie Dale worked with Kurt at the shop. She was a big, black woman who bore a strong resemblence to Mercedes. Both were strong and 'fabulous', and both had a soft spot where Kurt was concerned.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"He is over here freaking out." There was a pause as she yelled about something being good news in what Blaine assumed was Kurt's general direction. "Get get down here. I don't think this guy's gonna wait too long."

"Wha-" He turned to Carl. "She hung up on me."

"Sounds like something's up."

Blaine sighed. "I'm sorry, but...I've gotta go." There was a bit of irritation creeping into his head, which he stomped on until it was good and dead.

Carl waved a hand. "Go on. The guys'll understand. Besides, this just means I get to pick the newbies."

The cab ride seemed to take forever due to traffic. Blaine spent the time staring out the window and tapping his fingers against his knee. He jumped out of the cab when the 'Anderson Design' sign came into view, tossing a wad of bills at the driver, and hurrying into the shop. The little bell above the door chimed as he opened and shut the door.

"Mr. Anderson?" A balding man in a business suit, briefcase in hand, stood at Blaine's arrival.

"Yeah?" Blaine said warily. Where was Kurt?

"Excellent. My name is-"

Blaine held up a finger. "Hold on. I'll be right back."

The man sighed and sank back into his chair as Blaine strode for the back door where all the supplies-fabrics, needles, sewing machine, and the like-were stored. Kurt paced back and forth, wringing his hands. Ronnie sat at the small desk in the corner watching him.

"What's going on?" Blaine asked.

"Thank god you're here," Ronnie said, rolling her eyes. "Talk some sense into that boy."

Blaine strode forward and gently gripped Kurt by the shoulders to stop his mad pacing. "Kurt. Babe. What's going on?"

Kurt kept his eyes on the floor as he answered. "Y-you have to make go away, Blaine."

"Who? That guy out front?"

Kurt nodded, biting his lip.

"And...why, exactly? What'd he do?"

"He wants me to sign a contract," Kurt whispered. He went from wringing his hands together to tugging on the fabric of Blaine's shirt.

Blaine took Kurt's hands in his own. "I don't get it."

"He-I...the internet. There were my desings and he-"

"Okay. Let's go talk to the nice man." Blaine put his hands on Kurt's shoulders and steered him towards the door, but Kurt rounded on him in a sudden panic.

"They're going to find out, Blaine! They'll want to know who I am and then-then, people will _know._ I don't want them to know." The last few words ended with a whimper.

Blaine eyed him carefully. "Kurt, people already know what happened-not everyone but, god, your face was all over the news for almost a year."

Kurt's eyes filled with tears. With another sigh, Blaine pulled him against his chest in a hug.

Ronnie suddenly opened the door and stuck her head in. "Um...guys?"

Kurt pulled away, wiping at his eyes. Blaine squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the door.

The man waiting stood with a relieved smile at the sight of Kurt. If he noticed Kurt's red eyes and tear-stained face, he kept quiet about it, simply introducing himself as Roger Gainsfield.

"I represent Gia Gordon-"

"The singer?" Blaine asked. She was quite famous. A little new to the pop world but not one of those talentless hacks that seemed to get churned out by the dozens these days. The girl had talent. Blaine grinned and gave the glum Kurt a shoulder bump as he realzied where this was going.

"She was very impressed by the designs on your website," Gainsfield continued.

"I knew it wa a mistake, taking mail orders," Kurt muttered. Blaine hushed him, patting his hand.

"Anyway. There's an award show coming up-not a big one, just some teen thing-and she'd like _you_ to design her dress. Something original, of course."

Kurt glared at him, making the man's smile falter.

"We're willing to pay you quite well for it."

"Can we have a day or two to think about it?" Blaine asked.

Gainsfield turned a relieved smile to Blaine. "Of course. Please don't take too long, though. She really loves Mr. Anderson's work." He opened his briefcase and pulled a thick file out. "I'll let you look over the paperwork in the meantime."

The ride home was quiet, neither sure what to say. There should have been celebrating, not all this awkward silence. Wasn't this one of the things Kurt had wanted so badly?

He turned to Kurt as soon as the stepped through the front door but, as he opened his mouth to speak, got brushed off by Kurt pulling out his phone and hitting speed dial.

"I'm calling my dad," he said absently, wandering off down the hallway.

"Yeah, good idea," Blaine muttered. Maybe Burt could talk some sense into him. Blaine sure as hell wasn't getting anywhere with him.

The papers which held the terms of Kurt's contract was so many pages long and filled with such technical jargon that Blaine's eyes started to hurt four pages in. He wound up calling his own dad just to have someone help him make sense of it. He talked to his own dad while Kurt talked to his a few feet away.

"He wants to talk to you," Kurt suddenly said, thrusting his phone at Blaine's head. There was a petulant turn to his mouth that Burt seemed an expert at bringing out.

"Is that Kurt?" Blaine's dad asked. "Let me talk to him."

They exchanged phones and Burt's gruff, 'hey,' greeted him.

"Hi, Mr. Hummel. Did Kurt tell you what's going on?"

"Yeah. Sounds like a big opportunity."

"It is. I just wished he'd stop worrying so much."

"He's got nothing to be ashamed of. My kid's got talent. He should be using it."

Blaine's phone was suddenly shoved back into his face. "Gotta go, sir. I think Kurt's about to beat me to death with my own phone."

'Very funny,' Kurt mouthed as they switched their phones back.

It took two of hours of parental nagging and an extra half hour of them arguing, complete with yelling and enthusiastic hand gestures, before Kurt collapsed against Blaine's chest and mumbled, "Fine. I'll do it."

"I hope your dad won't mind that you're using my name for this," Blaine said a week later as Kurt lowered his hand towards the finalized contract in front of him.

"It's my name," he said simply before scrawling, 'KURT ANDERSON,' along the final line in a curly script.


End file.
